


Study of a Moment

by jeeg94



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Nipple Licking, Other, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 10:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12702684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeg94/pseuds/jeeg94
Summary: Lance returns late at night.





	Study of a Moment

The bed dips as Lance takes a seat on the edge. He moves quietly and slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping figure a few inches from his hip. He pulls off first one sock and then the other, then undoes his belt, sliding it trough the loops and letting it fall gently to the floor. There’s a clink as it makes contact with the hard wood and, though it isn’t much louder than a pin dropping, the person on the bed shifts a little and makes a mouth smacking noise.

“Lance?” The figure mumbles, gritty from sleep.

“Hey, baby,” Lance whispers, resting a hand on the hip next to him and stroking down the outside of the thigh, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wasn’t asleep,” stretch and turn and Lance’s hand is now sitting on stomach, rising and falling with the motion of breathing, “was waiting for you to get back.”

Lance chuckles, petting at the smooth skin there, tracing the lines of scars and stretch marks, iliciting a soft shiver. The marks are beautiful, Lance thinks, and not just because they tell a story or have meaning behind them, which they do. Lance honestly thinks they look like art, pale and shimmery against the skin. He could reproduce them on a canvas if he tried but the work would constantly be evolving, and that’s what Lance finds so magical about them. Bodies never stay the same. It’s one of the most tragic and lovely things he’s had the pleasure of learning throughout his life.

He leans over, tips of his hair brushing against the edge of a waist band, and butterfly kisses those beautiful marks. It’s not meant to be sexual, not this late at night when they’re both more asleep than awake. This is simple comfort.

The act of a kiss for Lance has meant many things in his life. As a child it meant all hurts were cured and he was loved beyond a shadow of a doubt. His mama kissed him and it meant warmth. His papa kissed him and it meant happiness. In adolescence a kiss meant confusion, but not in a bad way. It was the confusion of learning what he wanted and how he felt and where he fit in. Kissing girls was fun and learning how to pull noises from them, how to move his tongue just so, how to hold them in his arms, was exhilarating. Kissing boys was fun too, and carried with it a sense of the forbidden, though Lance was well aware that anyone could kiss whomever they chose. He simply liked the danger of it. He decided as a teenager that he liked kissing boys just a bit more than kissing girls.

Kissing as an adult has come to mean something different but still kind of the same. When he kisses a partner, at least for him, it’s the promise of something more, an allusion at a connection that could be purely carnal or something softer, something more, with a life of its own. He likes the second kinds of kisses better. He likes to believe that whomever he’s dating could be that something more, that their shared kisses could give birth to a shared life. He enjoys the carnality but he lives for the sensuality.

A hand slips through his hair, dragging his attention away from the ridges and dips of so-called blemishes, and causing little sparks to burst across his scalp, down his neck and over his shoulder. He lifts his head and looks into tired eyes, barely open, lashes almost touching cheeks. The owner of those eyes is smiling. Just a little quirk of the mouth, lips rising at the corners in the impression of a grin. Lance loves those lips. He could study them for hours and never cease to be amazed by their perfection. They look plush from here and Lance has the urge to bite one and see if it is.

He pulls both legs up onto the bed, kneeling next to his lover, and kisses a line up soft skin. Along the way, he makes a detour to a dusky nipple, just beginning to tighten from Lance’s attentions. He gives it a soft lick, right on the tip, barely enough to feel on his tongue, but he receives a sharp inhale all the same. He licks it again, harder, and this time takes it into his mouth, to suck on languidly. He rolls his tongue against the bud, feeling it harden further, and bites down a little.

A gasp and an arch.

“Are you trying to start something?” He hears. “Beause if you are, I don’t think I have the energy.”

Lance releases the nipple with a pop of suction and hovers there gazing into his favourite pair of eyes. Another thing about kisses, Lance thinks, is how each individual one means something different.

Lance presses a kiss to beautifully curved lips, taking his time as they move together. After the distraction that that nipple provided, Lance needs a moment to collect himself. It’s always been like this with them, everything they do is loud, fast, too much, not enough, beautiful, terrible, overwhelming. He wouldn’t exchange it for the world.

Finally, after feeling it against him and gazing at it longingly, Lance pulls that lower lip into his mouth. It’s just a plush as he knew it would be, soft and pillowy as he nibbles it, and it tastes like the Blistex he knows is applied to it before sleep. He’s grown to love that taste. Arms wind around his neck, holding him in place as he licks and sucks and bites.

He places one final kiss on that perfect mouth and pulls back to admire his work. The lip is swollen and shining with spit, just how Lance likes to see it, and he ducks back in to kiss it’s owner on the cheek.

There’s a giggle as he is hugged just a little tighter.

“Come to bed.”

Lance doesn’t need to be asked twice. He is released for a moment and he pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. He doesn’t bother getting under the covers, it’s too warm for that. Instead, he simply lies down, slides his arm across that waist, feeling those beautiful marks against him and closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of the person he loves most in the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> The other character in this could be anyone that you imagine. I just had a thought I needed to get out and this is how it manifested.


End file.
